


I'll Save You, Promise

by Fluffygayprince



Category: Phandom
Genre: Depression, Eating Disorders, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 14:35:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7896427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluffygayprince/pseuds/Fluffygayprince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil is a neko, he has been for his whole life. The past 16 years he had to endure abusive parents and getting bullied at school and anywhere else he goes. He never had a friend, someone to talk to, nothing. This made him depressed. Not slightly depressed, but really depressed. His whole body is covered in red and white lines, the white ones almost invisible against his skin. There isn’t a day that passes without the thought of suicide coming up, he thinks about it all the time. When he finally decides to do it tough, something weird happens, he gets saved. Someone actually shows him a act of kindness. Phil gets to live with this stranger, gets a roof above his head and all the food he wants.<br/>The path to recovery is long, with many fails, but will he get there eventually, and what will happen when he gets feeling for his savior? Can he be gay? Can he finally be happy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Save You, Promise

**Author's Note:**

> (In this story Dan is older than Phil because Phil seems more appropriate to be a neko and It wouldn’t fit in the story if Dan was younger than him, but still took him in his home and all that stuff).
> 
> Neko (my version) = human with cat ears, tail and kitten teeth.

**Present Day**

I don’t want to die--not really, not now--but that little voice in my head keeps telling me that I should do it. That I should take the pills. That I should jump. That I should slid my wrist. The list goes on. The thing is that the whisperings are so inconsistent. Sure, some of the things overlap and others are almost completely the same, but for some reason it keeps feeding me new reasons, new ways. It makes me believe I love the numbness I get from the prescribed pills and that I enjoy the burn that haunts my skin hours after I make a fresh cut.  
  
Maybe I should introduce myself. Well, my name is Phillip Michael Lester--I would prefer if you called me Phil--and I’m a Neko. For those who don’t know what a Neko is: I’m human, or at least I think so, the doctors don’t agree with me on that matter. My physical appearance is slightly different from other humans. Hidden in my dark hair I have cat ears, beautiful and black. And a tail, let’s not forget about the tail. It’s almost as long as my arm and also black, maybe even darker than my ears. I don’t have fur, I don’t have claws and I don’t have any form of special eyesight. None of that, no, but I do have kitten teeth. They aren’t very visible but you can feel them. Though believe me, you don’t want to. The ones that have had the misfortune of feeling them say that they are sharp as knives and sleek as needles. I love them; they are the only part of me that’s even remotely threatening.  
  
Back to the point: I was stood on the bridge in my home town, staring at the dark mass of water below me, and the thought of jumping was the only thing on my mind. Today was the day I was finally going to do it; I was going to end it all. My life was horrible and I couldn’t stand to stay alive another day. Jumping, or any form of suicide, became more and more appealing the longer I was thinking of it and I soon found myself climbing over the short railing and a little closer to my death. One step. That was all it would take me. One little step, but I found myself hesitating. Why couldn’t I do it? I had been looking forward to this day for so long, longer than I could imagine and now that I was facing my death I got scared. “Come on Phil, you can do it!” I muttered softly to myself before lifting my right leg slightly and dipping my head forward, looking down into the ice cold water below me. One weight shift, if only I could manage to find the courage to lean far enough. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just jump?  
  
Not that it would make any difference whatsoever if I didn’t...I had drank enough alcohol to pass out at any given moment and the overdose of pills making their way down to my stomach would do the trick too, but I figured that jumping of a bridge would be a lot quicker. Just like in a movie or comic, I decided to count out loud (fitting that a drunk guy would be counting the time to his own death). “Ooooooneeeee,” I cringed at how slurred my voice sounded. “Twooooo--” I was in the middle of counting when a voice shattered my hazy determination, “WAIT, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? DON’T JUMP!” Not long after the hidden voice yelled those words I felt someone’s hand clamp onto my shoulder. “What are you doing? Leave me alone, I don’t want to live. I was almost there, why did you have to stop me?” I mumbled to the stranger, but I’m not sure if he understood anything I said through the sobs escaping my mouth.

*18 Years Ago**

“I hate that I’m the one who has to tell you the news, but your son is going to be a Neko…we can clearly see the beginning of a tail and maybe even a pair of ears.” Ms. Lester broke down in sobs as soon as the doctor spoke those most dreaded words while her husband kept a straight, emotionless expression on his face. There was no way that they could have expected this. Yes, they always knew that it was a possibility, but…they never actually thought it would happen to them. Having a Neko as kid was something you heard stories and rumors about. It was something you would talk about in hushed voices with your neighbor and what the priest would tell you was a sin. Only people who did something horrible in their life would suffer this curse, the church explained. In real life it was a sort of genetic manipulation. Scientists had accidentally put something in the water a long time ago that made it possible for some people to be born Nekos. It’s a sort of mutation that is passed down in families. If two people who are both carriers have a child the possibility of it being a Neko was stronger. The scientists were sent to prison but the change they made in the human DNA could not be returned.  
  
“What are our options?” Mr. Lester asked with a voice that was as flat as his expression. He was one of the people who believed the church’s explanation, but he couldn’t decipher the reason for why they would be punished so. The doctor seemed to think for a minute before answering “Well, you could always opt for abortion, or if you aren’t for that you could always put him up for adoption?” He ended his phrase with an audible question mark, not sure how his patients would react to the news. “NO! Not an abortion!” Ms. Lester yelled as soon as the doctor had finished his sentence. You see, the Lesters were very catholic and didn’t believe in abortion. They talked with the doctor about the best way to handle things for a long time before finally leaving his office and heading home.  
  
The plan would be to put “the freak”, as they called their unborn child, up for adoption as soon as they legally could while trying to keep the pregnancy private between them for as long as possible. Ms.Lester would go stay with her ‘sister’ who lived across the country until Phil was born so that nobody would know about it. Meanwhile, she actually went to a sort of rehab center to pray and learn how to be a better human so the couple could conceive another child in the future without it being a Neko.  
However, things do not always go as planned and Ms.Lester decided against her husband’s pleas to keep her child even after the birth. She was convinced that god had sent them the kid to punish them and that he would only get madder if they tried to escape the punishment and give it away.

**Four Years Later**

“Why didn’t you give him away when it was easy? Why did you have to let your sister convince you to keep it? He’s a freak, an abomination of nature. He shouldn’t exist, it’s not natural!” Four year old Phil watched watched his parents fight in the doorway. He wasn’t really scared of it anymore. It was normal for him: his parents would come home from work and start fighting, and then it would go on for hours until they both went to sleep. Nobody looked at him or gave him food. But today was different. His mother was standing in front of his father, a terrified look on her face. “Why do I even put up with you two!?” his father shouted. “You know what? I’m leaving. I’m too good for this.” He turned around and locked eyes with Phil. The innocent little boy peered into the hateful eyes of the man he called ‘dad’ and began to shake with fear, his ears pressed flat against his head and his tail curled tightly around his waist. Never had he been more afraid of his father during his short life. “What are you looking at?” The man fumed. “Haven’t you done enough? You’re the reason your mom and I fight constantly, you’ve ruined our marriage....you are the cause of everything that went wrong between us. You shouldn’t be in our house, let alone alive. We are good people. We have never deserved your sorry ass.” With those words he stormed out of the door, but not without kicking little Phil in his tummy and knocking him down.  
  
When his father was gone he looked back at his mother, but what he saw wasn’t the woman he called ‘mom’. It was a lifeless shell. Her eyes were empty, no emotion, no spark, nothing. After that day he never saw his mother again. “Go to your room,” she eased out, her voice barely above a whisper. When Phil didn’t display any kind of reaction she belted it, pronouncing every word clearly to make sure he knew what was expected of him. “Go. To. Your. Room.” This time he looked up, tears clearly flowing over his cheeks. He studied his mom, seeking the comfort she once gave. But not anymore.  
  
His mother had always been supportive of him. She didn’t call him a freak, nor did she abuse him. His father was another thing. The man was always cold. Not once had Phil ever see him smile as long as he could remember. He never said a kind word to his son, and if he got his way the boy wouldn’t get any food and would just starve to death. It was only natural that Phil learned to be scared of his father and love his mother. So when he tried to hug his mother he was surprised to feel that she had slapped him. “Don’t touch me, haven’t you done enough?” His mother turned away.  
  
Phil slipped off to his room. Being four years old he was too small to climb into his crib alone so his only option was to cry himself to sleep on the cold, hard floor. He had trouble falling asleep that night. The only light in the room came from the moon outside his window and made dark and haunting silhouettes on his wall. Phil’s room consisted of a small crib and a cupboard with some drawers. There was no carpet, color, toys or anything like that. If he chose to believe his father he didn’t deserve anything nice. That night, after he went through many nightmares about his parents fighting, he finally fell into a calm sleep.  
He didn’t wake up the next day or the next night, only the second day after his father left them did he wake again. He never really thought too much about the fact that he slept for almost 40 hours because for him it was a regular thing. But if you asked a psychologist they would tell you that his body had shut itself down to process all of the things that had happened to him in the first 4 years of his life.  
  
Throughout his two days of sleep his mother hadn’t come to check on him once. She had almost completely forgotten about her son's existence until he stood in the kitchen two days later to get some food as if it were the most normal thing to do. And for him it was, because independency was what he knew. Surviving. That was what he did. Not living, because living would mean to feel content in some way, something he definitely wasn’t even at this age. Being ignored by his father, and sometimes his mother too when she had no other choice, had made him lose the childish spark in his eyes and force him to grow up way too soon, thus making him capable of taking responsibility for himself and his mother. Life went on this way, similar to the past couple years, only without the constant presence of his father. He took care of himself and his mom, praying that the monster he called father would never return, and that the lifeless shell he called mother would one day act like his mom again. However, like always up until then in his short life, things didn’t always go as he hoped.

**Six Months Later**

It took only six months before beatings became a regular occurrence in the Lester household. Ms.Lester would come home drunk after a night out with her friends and beat him for reasons unbeknownst to the little boy. The worst part about it all was that Phil had accepting this as normal and almost routine. His mother would often yell at him while throwing a punch, so he knew what he did wrong, but on some days his mother would stay completely silent while doing it. On those days he would try to find a reason himself. Maybe he had talked too much that day or acted the wrong way. He was too young and innocent to realize the true reason. How could he know that the only thing he had done wrong was surviving?  
  
No one ever knew about what happened between the walls of his house, and according to his mother’s wishes, things would stay that way. She knew her son wouldn’t say anything to other people because she had taught him this was a regular thing for a parent to do. She had repeated it so many times to him and to herself that she eventually started to believe it. This was the only way she could cope with treating her son that way. She hated herself for doing that to him, but the anger she felt inside of her couldn’t be kept in, she had to let it out. She hated Phil more than she hated herself because she chose him over her husband.  
It was a day like most others, so far. Someone at the bar had reminded her about her husband causing the rage inside her to flare up. She had stormed home only to find her son singing happily to himself in the kitchen. This made her even madder, so she started yelling at him almost instantly. "Why did I keep you? You only ever bring problems into my life." With every sentence she screamed at the terrified boy, she delivered another kick to his trembling body curled up on the ground. Nothing felt better than letting the anger out, which was the only reason she kept doing this to him.  
  
After some time he must have fallen unconscious because when he woke up eventually his mother was nowhere in sight and the blood had begun to dry on his clothes and skin. He carefully sat up and stretched his limbs to see if there was anything broken, as had happened before, and was glad to find that he was not bound for the hospital. When he was done checking his injuries, he stood up and made his way up the stairs towards his bedroom in hope of cleaning himself off and going to sleep before his mother came back for another round. He always tried to limit the beatings to one a day and if his mother found him awake by the time she got back he would most certainly get another one.  
  
Upon entering his room, Phil stripped down to his underwear with much difficulty and walked over to the bowl of water he kept in his room for times like this when he was to hurt or tired to move properly. He quickly washed off and climbed under the covers. Phil’s nighttime routine usually consisted of looking after his bruises and praying that his mother would act normal again. All it provided was pointless hope, but without it he wasn’t sure how he could survive even a week with his mother.  
  
He had tried talking to his neighbor about it in the hope to find some help, but the man had only looked at him with a look of disgust before turning away and shutting the door. That definitely did not help him maintain his faith in humanity, but he also knew that he didn't really have a choice except living on and looking after his mother. It would maybe help if his mother had any decent friends, but she had been known as the town slut not even two weeks after his father left, and all the normal, good working and catholic people had turned their back on her. And the fact that Phil wore only dirty or ripped clothes didn’t really help their image either.  
  
Sometimes he wished he had someone to talk to other than his plush lion. He had gotten it from a nurse a couple of months ago when his mother had gone too far and he had ended up with a broken arm. It was the only toy he had because his mother would never buy him any. He was already really attached to the Lion and had trouble sleeping if the plush wasn’t with him. It kept him safe from nightmares, dark shadows, hateful words and sideway glances from bystanders who didn’t care about his life or what went on in his head. On nights that the pain was almost unbearable the lion would be there to console him and to tell him everything would be okay one day, even though it couldn’t talk.

**Three Years Later**

Phil had heard about something called school before, but he never went to it. He had never been given the opportunity. Not that he ever questioned why, it was just how life went. His mother had told him that the kids would only bully him or make fun of him because he was different, and he believed her, because it wouldn't be the first time something like that had happened. When he went to Tesco with his mom or when he went to the park, they would only always be there and make fun of him, and slowly he began to hate himself more and more. He was too young to really recognize depression or true sadness but he did understand that he wasn't normal. He was simply a freak of nature, something that shouldn't exist in this world. So you could understand the shock he got when he went to school for the first time. His mother had came home one day and announced that he was going as if it were the most normal thing. For the last 7 years he had lived with people telling him that he didn't deserve to go to school because it was only for normals.  
  
He was super excited, though he knew it wouldn't be easy. He was hoping to make some friends, although most likely all the kids would only pity him. It took him a whole week to finally find a decent backpack and some clothes with not too many rips. His mother was going easy on him too, most likely because she didn't want anybody finding out about the abuse. She knew that her son would be taken away from her if she were ever found out, which would mean she would lose her only source of income, money from the state. She’d lost her job a couple weeks ago because she would come to work drunk or hungover all the time. She had gotten a lot of warnings already but since she had decided to just simply ignore them, she was fired and replaced with someone younger and more eager to work.  
  
The bruises were fading and the cuts were healing. Many of the scars had turned a faint white color and Phil hoped it would only stay like that. Some nights, when he was bored and had nothing to do, he would count them, as numerous as the stars in the sky. He counted the number of times the person he was supposed to love--and who was supposed to love him back--had hurt him. 

**First Day of School**

Phil curled up in a ball in the corner of his room. His first day hadn’t been fun at all. The other kids had made fun of him and the teachers weren’t nice like the ones in TV shows. They had yelled at him for no reason and made him sit on his own during lunch. He didn’t get why people were so mean to him? Wasn’t he human to? Apparently not. He felt tears stream down his face and curled up even more. He had been made to do his first tests today, since he’s seven and had never gone to school before. it was horrible. He didn’t know anything about the subjects so, naturally, he failed all the tests, or so he thought. 

**Earlier That Day**

“Everyone, could you pay attention for a moment, please?” The principal said, trying to get the attention of the other kids. She had been so nice to show me to my class and introduce me to the others. “This is Phillip Lester. He’s new here and will be spending this year at our school. I expect you all to be very nice to him.” She nodded at the teacher and left the classroom.  
  
The kids gave me a once over, a dirty look on their faces. There was no way they were going to give me a chance. I looked at the teacher, not knowing what she expected me the do. I was a little taken back when I saw her face sporting the same ugly sneer, “Go sit at the back and don’t say a word, got it?” I followed her orders and slowly made my way towards the back, not allowing her attitude to ruin my day. I sat down in my seat and looked around the room. Since I couldn’t count yet, there was no way for me to know with how many we were, but the class was large. Every desk was occupied and I almost couldn't see the front over all the heads bobbing before me. I made my ears lay flat against my head and curled my tail around my waist. Though a little uncomfortable, it was the only way I could look almost normal.  
  
The lesson was interesting, unlike anything I had ever seen before, not that it was particularly pleasant. The teacher and other kids kept looking at me strangely, and I had even heard a boy whisper to his friend that he should stay away from me because I wasn’t normal.  
  
I spent the rest of first and second period staring out the window and doodling on a random piece of paper. I can’t say I learned much, but I don’t think any of the other kids did either. They were all talking with each other and laughing the whole time.

“Triiing!” I heard the bell go off and all around me kids were standing up and walking out of class. I followed them outside and observed how they were playing with each other. When I spotted some kids in my class playing a game I went over to them. “Can I play with you guys?” I asked in a timid voice, not yet having the confidence to speak louder.  
  
They looked at each other before a girl named Emily said, “No way, you’re weird. And anyways my mum said that I can’t play with weird people.” Then she ran away, motioning for the others to follow. I shrugged my shoulders dejectedly and sat under one of the tall trees surrounding the play ground. Hopefully tomorrow will be better, and then next year will be better too, I thought to myself as I stared down at my knees. Why are these people so mean to me? 

**Six Years Later**

I stared at the razor blade in my hand as the warm water poured over me. After school I had run straight home and taken a shower to wash all the dried blood off my skin. The words they, the bullies, had said to me today rang through my head as I considered the urgency that quickened my breath. “Do I really want this? I’ve never thought of myself as a self harmer; why would I start now?” I muttered softly, almost unhearable over the sound of water pattering on the tiles.  
  
“Because you’re a worthless piece of shit,” My brain answered, in a persistent whisper. “You deserve it.” I knew it was right. I had to do it. I deserved it. I needed some way to relieve the burden. I couldn’t continue on like this. But was I really prepared to face all the trouble that would come with my actions? Yes, I thought so. Either way I would have to learn to live with it.  
  
I tried to stop my hand from shaking as I brought the blade to my left wrist and added pressure. It didn’t make a cut at first, so I let the blade sink into my skin as if it were butter and watched as the red began to flow out of the wound, surrounding the blade. The thoughts slowly began to fade away and were replaced by a peaceful feeling. I didn’t feel the searing pain it was supposed to bring me, I only noticed relief. It felt so inhumanely good. After a while I got used to the feeling and the slight pain was almost gone, along with my quiet mind. The thoughts and feelings had come back, and even brought a few new ones with them. Most of them weren’t even full sentences, just words: a string of names that had been thrown at me by careless people. The only difference was that they weren’t totally true before, but now they are. Fat. Worthless. Cutter, loser, faggot. They each slipped by me as soon as they had come. But the one thought I could hold on to was “Go on, make the cut, go as deep as you can. Make it hurt as much as possible. Just do it!”  
  
I gave in to them eventually, still not sure about where I was going, and pressed the blade even deeper into the wound before slowly dragging it across my skin. The blood began to pool almost immediately, filling the gap left behind by the blade before overflowing from the wound, running over my arm and falling onto the ground, soon followed by more and more scarlet rivulets. My blank eyes were fixed on the cut, loving the feeling of forcing some blood from my body. It wasn’t much, I knew that, but even that small amount was making me feel a lot lighter, as if every single weight on my shoulders had suddenly disappeared. When I woke from my trance I noticed that I had started to move the tip of my tail over the wound, slowly smearing the blood over my skin. I loved the translucent red on my pale skin so I quickly made another cut, this one not as deep as the previous one. Nonetheless, blood came pouring out, satisfying me immediately. I had never before realized the pleasure that came with cutting, which was probably for the best. Who knows how early I might have started had I known?  
  
“Why does everything have to be so hard for nekos? I really liked my tail, so why didn’t other people,” I sobbed quietly, thick tears blinding me. The thoughts rushed me at the same time, each one I had tried so hard to suppress throughout the years. Every insult on how I looked, every comment on how I must have acted sinfully in a past life, every bully that had taken a cheap shot.  
  
I don’t know how many cuts I had made before I decided to stop, probably around 20, each one a different size. I slowly stood up, seeking support against the wall because I was feeling a bit lightheaded. I hadn’t lost that much blood, had I? I turned of the shower and stepped out of the tub. There was still blood trickling from the wounds, so I gently wiped the blood away and wrapped a bandage around it. When that was done I walked to my bedroom and put on more comfortable clothes, long-sleeved.  
  
My stomach was growling by now. I hadn’t eaten all day, but I could hear my mother in the kitchen downstairs, and the last thing I wanted was to get into another argument with her. I decided to just suck it up, carefully making my way over to my bed. My tail was curled up tightly around my waist and my ears were pressed around my head. I had never truly felt at ease in this house; there was always some sort of danger awaiting me. I pulled the duvet over my head and put on my headphone to listen to some music, blocking out the outside world. The first song that came on was Starlight by Muse, one of my favorite songs of all time. I put the song on repeat and closed my eyes, drifting into slumber almost immediately.

**Present Day**

I awoke to a piercing pain shooting through my head. “Uhhh,” I groaned, my mouth dry as if I hadn’t drunk anything in almost a week. I slowly tried to open my eyes, but was blinded by the light flooding the room. It must have been around 11 AM. Scrunching my face in confusion, I cautiously squinted at my surroundings. The room I was in wasn’t mine, or even familiar at all. It was huge with white walls and a darker color scheme, and the bed I was in was gigantic and really comfy. I slowly sat up and looked around the room. I still couldn’t remember what had happened which had caused me to be here. I slowly moved my ears around and picked up the sound of someone.cooking? The thought of food made my stomach grumble. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten something.  
  
I pulled the covers back and looked down at my now exposed body. I was very nearly naked. The only thing I was wearing was a pair of boxers and my arms and legs were bandaged. “Shit, I don’t know where I am and already this person, whoever they might be, has seen how much of a failure I am,” I muttered, desperately looking around for something decent to wear and finding a pile of clothes at the end of the bed. They were simple: a pair of grey sweatpants and a deep blue long sleeved shirt, and there was even a hole in the sweatpants for my tail. I put them on slowly because my body was killing me. All my muscles were sore, and my throat tingled like I could puke at any given moment.  
I went over to investigate one of the doors, only to find a bathroom behind it. I was sort of glad I had found one, because now I had at least a chance of making myself look presentable before I met this stranger. I splashed some water on my face and combed my fingers through my hair. I still looked like hell though, and I probably smelled like it too, but it was better than nothing. I stayed in the bathroom a bit longer, mustering courage, before I made my way towards the door which I supposed led to the kitchen. On my way there I smelled pancakes and coffee and the scent only grew stronger the closer I got. I descended the stairs and continued to follow the smells and sounds. I soon came to stand in front of the door. I didn't know what to do, should I go in and let this person know that I’m awake or should I go back to the room I was in and let him come for me when he wants? Even though almost every fiber of my being screamed for me to go back, I decided to ignore my instinct and open the door.  
  
A man stood with his back towards me cooking something. He turned around when he heard me come in. “Oh, I see that you’re awake,” he exclaimed happily. “I'm making pancakes, so you can sit at the table ‘till they’re done.” He motioned at the table with his hip while he continued making the pancakes, flipping them every now and then. I followed his orders without saying a word and sat down on one of the chairs. The table was already covered with a variety of jams, syrups and fruit, so there wasn’t really anything I could do. In the meantime, I decided to just observe him. He wasn’t neko, and taller than me. He had brown hair, cut like mine but the mirror image, and the most beautiful hazel eyes I had ever seen. I found myself staring at him, so I quickly looked away. I glanced back up and saw that there was a glass of orange juice beside my plate. My throat still hurt so I quickly grabbed it and downed it all in one chug.  
  
“Easy there,” the stranger said when he noticed how fast I had drunk all of it. “Here, I’ll refill it.” He took my glass from where I put it down. “The pancakes are almost done. How many do you want?” I looked up. “Uhh...5 is g-good,” My voice was a bit shaky and I wasn’t used to this sort of question. At home I took care of myself. I couldn’t remember the last time someone else had made food for me. “Are you sure that’s enough?” He asked, not believing that would be enough. I guess it’s not much, but it was what I was used to. I normally survived on one meal a day, when I’m lucky. “I’m sure,” I answered him, staring at my hands in my lap. He loaded my plate with pancakes and did the same for himself before he sat down at the opposite end of the table. He watched as I put some maple syrup on my pancakes, for the first time, and took a bite. It was so good! I couldn’t believe I had never tried it before.  
  
“So, what’s your name?” He asked while plopping some blueberries onto his pancakes. “Phil,” I mumbled with my mouth full of food as I unwrapped my tail from my waist. I normally really liked having it there; it comforted me in some sort of way. But, for a reason I couldn’t place, though, I could never eat with it curled tightly like that.  
  
“I like your name,” he smiled warmly. “Mine is Dan.” I nodded to let him know I was listening but stayed quiet. I didn’t trust him yet, why should I? I mean, this guy takes a complete stranger into his house without a second thought? Unrealistic. We continued our meal in silence. It wasn't awkward, but rather a comfortable one. Dan’s eyes wandered up a few times, and he seemed content that I was eating. It looked like he was about to say something, but never did. It made me kind of curious, what was he thinking? I decided that if he wouldn't say anything, then I would. I still wanted to know why I was here and what had happened last night.  
  
“Um, I don’t want to seem rude, but why am I here?” My voice was small and still a bit shaky, but getting better with every tentative word. I usually really hated speaking to strangers, but with him it felt almost normal.  
  
“You can’t remember? I thought so,” He paused for a second before continuing. “Well, I found you yesterday. You were intoxicated and about to jump off the bridge a little ways out of town. I saved you just in time, and brought you here because you passed out soon after I caught you in my arms. I cleaned your cuts and bandaged them up before laying you down on my spare bed. I hope you didn’t mind.”  
  
“Why?” My question seems to surprise him. “Why did you save me?” My voice was steady for once, but still soft. I didn’t think my question was that absurd, I mean, who would want to save me?  
  
“I couldn’t just let you die. People always tell me that suicide is a permanent solution for a temporary problem. I don’t know you, and I don’t know what happened to you, but please don’t give up yet.” His voice held a hint of desperation and he had a sad look on his face, as if he were thinking back to something from a long time ago. I stayed quiet, mostly because I had no idea what to say. So many people, especially her, had told me that everyone would be better off without me. It was hard to believe anything else. I think Dan understood that I didn’t intend to say anything, because he was quick to interrupt my thinking. “Either way, we don’t have to talk about it today,” He smiled kindly. “So, what do you think about an Anime marathon? I was just about to start a new one.”  
  
Smiling thankfully, I nodded. “That sounds good.” He stood up and motioned for me to do the same. “You can go ahead to the lounge--it’s the room just to the left--while I clean up the table.” I nodded and walked towards the lounge, surprisingly finding it on the first try. The lounge wasn’t very big, but it featured a huge flat screen TV against one of the walls. Opposite the flat screen was a big, comfy-looking couch. On the couch laid a bunch of cushions and next to it was a huge bookshelf full of DVDs, games and plush toys. There was also a huge Muse poster on one of the walls. I sat down onto the couch,pulling my knees up and cuddling one of the cushions to my chest while staring at the Muse poster. So, this guy, with his stupid sparkling hazel eyes and nice smile and who happens to like Muse too, saved me last night. I didn’t know what to think about it. I slowly dozed off in thought and didn’t notice Dan entering the room.  
  
“Hey” he said while waving his hand a few feet in front of my face. I blinked and looked up at him. “I made some popcorn,” I saw him grin at me while pushing a bowl filled to the top into my hands before walking towards the TV. “Ever heard of Attack On Titan?” He awaited my response.  
  
“I have, yeah. Never had the chance to watch it though,” I answered him smiling. It had been on my To-Watch list for some time now, but I hadn’t come around to it yet as it was simply impossible with my mother around, and it wasn’t like I had any friends I could watch it with.  
  
“Super, then you won’t be bored!” He put the disc into the player and backed away towards the couch, sitting besides me and pushing play. “Here we go.” 

****

I was woken up by somebody shaking my shoulder. I slowly opened my eyes and sat up. “Come on phil, wake up,” Dan softly cooed in my ear.  
“What happened?” My voice was groggy and I was still a bit hazy. I pulled my sleeves over my hands and yawned.  
  
“You’ve fallen asleep on my shoulder, but come on, it’s 7pm. It’s time to eat something. What do you think of pizza?” His voice was soft, and nice to listen to. Was it already 7pm? Time had gone by fast. I didn’t know when I had fallen asleep, but it must have been 12 or 13 episodes into the first season.  
  
“Yeah, pizza’s great” I mumbled while rubbing my eyes.  
  
“Okay, I’ll order some, and then I’ll go and prepare the guest room for you...that is, if you still want to stay here,” Dan said with some sort of glint in his eyes, maybe of hope?  
“Um, if you don’t mind me,” I answered him cautiously, surprising myself because I really did want to stay here. I felt safe with him.

****

I ended up staying a couple weeks with Dan. For some weird reason, he didn’t mind me being a neko. He treated me as an equal and I slowly started to trust him. With every day we spent together I got to learn more about him, and in turn I told him about myself. I told him what I loved and what I hated, what I did in my free time, my hobbies, my favourite bands, tv series, books, games. We talked about everything and nothing. We learned that we had quite a lot in common too. In time, I thought less and less about cutting and depression; the last time I actually cut was a couple of days after coming here. Everything was smooth sailing. Dan made sure we were always busy so that I would be exhausted in the evenings, and in the mornings he was quick to distract me of any possible negative thought’s I could have. I appreciate him so much...I can maybe even say I’m starting to develop feelings for him. He’s just so smart and nice and I certainly can’t say he isn’t good looking too. I expected us to stay like this though, just friends, and it looked like that would probably happen, at least until one day.  
  
“Phil, can we talk for a moment?” Dan’s voice came from the other side of my door. After a couple days of living together we established that for the period of time that I would stay here the guest room was mine. Right now I was laying on my bed reading one of the Harry Potter books.  
  
I noticed the door opening and smiled, “Yeah, what do you want to talk about?” I sat up and motioned for him to come sit next to me.  
  
  
“No, I want to, I just don’t know why you would want to go on a date with someone like me.” I really had no idea what to think of all this. I liked Dan, I maybe even loved him, but never had I thought he would feel the same about me. And I had no idea how to act and what to do in a relationship. Anyway, how could anyone be attracted to a freak with cat-features?  
  
“You really want to go on a date with me?” His voice was disbelieving, ignoring the second part of my answer.  
  
“Yeah, I’m positive,” I reassured him.  
  
“Good, I’ll let you know what we’re going to do once I figure that bit out…” He had the biggest smile on his face as he hugged me. I tensed up because I wasn’t expecting it and I definitely wasn’t accustomed to it. He didn’t let go though, and after a few moments I relaxed and hugged him back, resting my head on his shoulder. We stayed like that for some time, just hugging. It was something I could get used to.  
  
Eventually, Dan pulled back, but not before kissing my head. “I’ll leave you to read; I’m going to go cook dinner.” The edges of his lips curved upwards and he left my room, leaving me a flustered, happy mess on my bed. 

**One Week Later**

“Be ready at 7, dress casual,” the handwritten note read. I had gone into the city today to find some sort of job to pay for my part of the flat. He certainly had enough money since he was a popular youtuber (I had found out a couple of days after I stayed here, when Dan had asked my help with something film-related), so he had money, but if I were to stay here I didn’t want him to pay for everything for me. As soon as I had come home I had gone straight to my room, only to find a note on my door. Why did I have to be ready at 7? Was Dan finally taking me on that date? The past week I’d found myself anticipating and fantasizing about the date on multiple occasions; it had been a long time since I was this excited for something.  
  
I tossed the note onto my bed and looked at my phone. I still had around 2 hours before I had to be ready: enough time to take a shower and select the right clothes. I undressed and walked towards the bathroom. Taking my time in the shower, I made sure I was clean and smelled nice from the tops of my ears to the tips of my toes. When I was finally done, I dried myself off and returned to my room with the towel low onto my hips. Opening my closet, I contemplated the correct date attire. After some thinking I decided on a pair of black skinnies and a blue checkered shirt he’d once told me looked good on me. Next up was my hair and tail. I brushed both of them until they looked sleek and shiny before I checked my phone again. I still had some time so I picked up my book again, the next on, and started reading. I got sucked into the book quite completely, causing time to fly by, and before I knew it 7 PM had arrived. 

****

“Dan, can I ask you something?” I asked him as we looked at the stars above. He turned towards me, with a smirk on his face.  
  
“You just did.”  
  
I giggled and playfully hit him.  
  
“I'm serious, moron.”  
  
“Okay okay, what do you want to know?” Dan started again, curiously. I hesitated for a minute, still unsure about asking him.  
  
“Why did you save me?” I mumbled, “I mean, why were you even there?” I couldn't meet his gaze. What if he thought me ungrateful? Why did I even have to ask that...I had ruined our date beyond repair. It had gone perfectly until now. He’d taken me to one of the best restaurants in town and we had talked nonstop. Then, he had taken me to a little clearing in the middle of the woods with a lake where he had left some really delicious sweets.  
  
“Do you really want to know?” He replied, but his voice was distant and he stared into nothingness. It was as if he wasn’t really here. I nodded, a little puzzled.  
  
“My little brother was just like you. He had the most beautiful brown ears and tail I had ever seen. I’d always secretly been jealous of him. I wanted to be like him...that was, until we started school. My parents loved him, but as I would find out, the people at school didn't. I never really understood why people hated nekos...Anyway, when I went to school everything was fine. I had a lot of friends and teachers loved me. But one day we got an assignment about our family and they found out about my brother. It wasn't like I’d tried to hide it, not at all, it had just never come up before.  
  
When they found out, I lost everything. It wasn't that bad for me, just loneliness and the occasional bully giving me shit. My brother had it worse. Every year he got older I watched his flame get smaller and his smile disappear. He never left his room or ate with us anymore. You don't even want to know how many times I carried him back home after school, after finding him unconscious behind the building.  
  
I hated myself for not being able to help him. I would even trade places with him in a heartbeat just so he could maybe be happy. But then one day--” He choked on the sobs that had been steadily building up throughout his story. Tears streamed down Dan’s face and he was having trouble talking. I took him into my arms and whispered soothing words into his ear. Eventually he was calm enough to continue.  
  
“I’d heard him sneaking out of his room and down the stairs. He had been acting weird the day before so I decided to follow him. He left the house and started running down the street. I tried to sprint after him him, but I couldn’t follow him. I looked everywhere but I still had no idea where he was. By this time I was out of breath and almost hysteric.  
  
I finally decided to investigate by the bridge and saw him standing in the same place as you were. I called out his name but it was too late. The look on his face at that moment gave me chills and it haunts me to this day. It was empty, like he was already gone. He had mouthed ‘I'm sorry’ before taking the final step and jumping. I tried everything I could to save him. I even jumped in after him and tried CPR, but it was too late.  
  
His suicide broke my family. My parents got a divorce and I had to go on some heavy medication, most of which I still take today.  
  
I was there the day you tried to kill yourself because on nights that I can't sleep I always go there. It makes me feel closer to him than when I go to his grave. And then you were there. I thought you were my brother at first; you looked exactly like him in the shadows. Once I realized I wasn’t imagining it, I ran and whisked you away without thinking. I couldn't let you do the same as my brother. You passed out in my arms rather quickly though, so I took you to my flat, cleaned your cuts and made sure you vomited out all the pills before I tucked you into the guest bed.”  
  
By the time Dan had finished talking my t-shirt was soaked and we were both crying. I held him in my arms and kept him close, wishing I knew a better way to comfort him. What did you say to someone who just told you a story like this?  
  
We stayed like that for some time, trying to pull ourselves back together. I don't how many minutes had passed before Dan put an end to the silence.  
“So, now you know my story,” he paused. “Can I know yours, too?” He asked expectantly. I didn't really want to tell him, but I guess it was only fair that I did, now.

“I guess,” I spoke a disclaimer. “Unlike your parents, mine did not support me at all. I'm happy I can't remember any abuse from before that I was 4, because the years I can remember were hell. My first memory is my father leaving us--me and my mom--because I was a neko. He couldn't take the embarrassment. When my father left, my mom started to drink a lot and she stopped functioning, really. For as long as I can remember, I’ve had to take care of myself and my mom, all the while enduring physical and emotional abuse at home and at school. So, one day I just decided I didn't want to do it anymore, I didn't want to be seen as a freak for the rest of my live. I've been depressed for as long as I can remember and self-harming since I was thirteen. I've never had a reason to stop...that is, until you came along. I don't know if you noticed, but I think I'm starting to get better.” I whispered the last part, too ashamed to look at him. Who would want to live with me after hearing my background? I'm damaged. I was surprised when I felt Dan touch my chin and tilt my face upwards.  
  
“I'm so sorry you had to endure all of that. You are so strong, Phil. Don't ever forget that,” he whispered back softly before capturing my lips in a loving kiss. I tensed at first but soon melted into it. The kiss was perfect, and I found myself wishing it would never end. The way we fit together was unbelievable, as if we were made for each other. We pulled away at the same time.  
  
“Wow,” I exclaimed.  
  
“Wow, indeed,” Dan repeated, a little out of breath. “Was that your first kiss?” I nodded a little ashamed.  
  
“Hey, don't worry about it. I don't care. I still love you.” I started at his words. “You l-love m-m-me?” He didn't seemed to regret what he had said. “Yeah, I love you. I'm not going to make a secret out of it.” He looked at me expectantly. Should I say I love him too? I thought I did, but I hadn’t given it much reflection. I like being with him, and I got butterflies in my stomach every time he was around. “I think I love you too.” I mumbled softly, feeling a bit nervous. “I mean, I don-” I was cut off by another kiss. This one was even better than the first one.  
  
“Let's go home, Phil,” he said after we broke apart, both of us panting slightly. I nodded, but stayed cuddled close in his arms. I didn't want to leave this place yet.  
  
“Phil, you’ll have to stand up for that,” Dan chuckled. With my face pressed against his chest, I whined, “mmmm, but i don’t want toooo” I had no plan to leave yet, this place was too perfect.  
  
“We can stay for a while longer if you’d like,” he suggested. I made a noise to let him know I agreed but I stayed quiet. I didn’t want to interrupt our little pocket of peace and comfort. We were outside of reality here. It felt like none of our problems were real, like our lives were plain and perfect. It was ironic, right? The middle of a patch of woods, where we had confessed our messed-up lives to each other, was the only place I thought of as perfect. This was a place that didn’t care about our lives, that didn’t care about our history. It did not care that whenever we decided to leave, we would go back to Dan’s home and try to live our lives together, figuring things out as we went. So I just stayed there in his arms, until it was early in the morning, thinking about us and life.

  


**Later**

“I don’t want to die, at least not all the time,” I think to myself as I lay down on Dan’s bed. We just came home from our date and Dan said that I should go to his room, so I suppose that’s where we would be sleeping. Looking around now I can’t believe how far I’ve come. Nobody who knew me a couple months ago would be able to recognize me today--and I’m glad for that. I may have dropped out of school and currently have no form of income, but at least I am alive and happy. I finally have a reason to live. The bed dips beside me and I feel someone kiss my cheek.  
  
“Hey, you want to watch that new anime you were talking about yesterday?” I can’t help smile as I nod and open my eyes, only to see that Dan wore just a pair of sweats, nothing else. I gently trace my fingers over his skin as he grins and reaches for his laptop to put between us on the bed. I cuddle closer, pulling the blanket over us to form a warm and safe cocoon as he presses play and puts his arm around me, kissing the top of my head.  
  
The words may be unspoken, but everything about our positions screams it. The way we act and talk, how we look at each other, our little habits.  
  
“I love you.”  
  
Yeah, I would be just fine, as long as I had Dan. This sort of codependency might not be healthy, but it’s good for now. Maybe I’ll be able to survive without him in the future, but I’m hoping I won’t have to, as I don’t see any future for myself without Dan.  
Because I love him, and I know he loves me.


End file.
